


Scars and Souvenirs

by Hairofgoldeyesofblue



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e09 Election Night Part II, F/M, Fluff, Healing, Post-Season/Series 02, Scars, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 23:19:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2044026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hairofgoldeyesofblue/pseuds/Hairofgoldeyesofblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Will was in love with Mackenzie's body."</p><p>A post-Election Night ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars and Souvenirs

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on a conversation I had a long time ago with simplyprologue.

When Will and Mackenzie finally stumbled into his apartment in the early morning hours of November 7th, 2012, they were exhausted. The only thing keeping them upright was the adrenaline from the events of the day before, and in no time at all, they’d collapsed on Will’s bed and fallen asleep, only allowing enough time to undress and crawl under the covers.

They managed to sleep through the alarm and when Will woke to Mackenzie sprawled across his sheets on her stomach in the mid-morning light, he decided to just say “screw it” to work for awhile longer and let her sleep. He studied his fiancé’s body – the body of the woman he loved more than life itself.

Will was in love with Mackenzie’s body. To be fair, he loved her mind and spirit more, but it was a well-known fact that he thought she was the most attractive woman he’d ever seen in real life, and now that they were engaged, he looked forward to being able to remind her and anyone else they came across on a frequent basis.

Her body had changed over the years they’d been apart. (So had his, but he preferred not to think about that too much.) Her hair was shorter than when they’d first dated, and he could spot a couple of gray hairs here and there, but it still smelled like lavender and lilacs. Will fondly remembered their first kiss on the sidewalk in front of her old walk-up apartment when he’d discovered how silky and soft it was. He had loved to play with her hair when they were together back then. The simple task of tangling his fingers in her glossy, chocolate-brown locks did so many things for him. It was calming and hypnotic and erotic and a million other wonderful emotions. He wondered if he could possibly convince her to grow it out a few inches now that they were back together.

Her exquisite legs and derriere hadn’t changed, but he’d known that for two and a half years now. (He certainly spent enough time subtly ogling her when she wore those pencil skirts to know.)

Her skin was still just as soft too, even if it had a few new lines and scars – battle wounds, he supposed – including the one on her stomach from where she’d been stabbed. (He couldn’t see it at the moment, but he knew it must be there.) Mackenzie shifted in her sleep, causing the blanket to slip down a little and reveal her back, which was bare with the exception of her matching midnight blue lace bra and panties. The color was a delicious contrast to her skin tone, and he ghosted his fingers teasingly under the edges of the lace along her ribs and the curve of her ass. Will marveled at the fact that he, once again, was allowed to touch her like this.  

Upon closer inspection, Will noticed that there was a pair of tattoos ingrained into her pale skin – a set of tiny quotation marks on her shoulder blades. It had been too dark to see them the night before, and they definitely hadn’t been there the last time they’d slept together. He leaned over to place a gentle kiss on the harsh-looking black ink, and when his stubble lightly tickled her skin, Mackenzie stirred. She tipped her head on the pillow and looked up at him with sleepy eyes.

“Hi,” he said, offering her a soft smile.

“What were you doing?”

“Looking at your tattoos here,” he replied, tracing one of the quotes with his index finger.

“Oh.” – she squinted at him in contemplation – “Do you hate it?”

“No.” Will shook his head, and Mackenzie looked relieved. “What’s it mean?”

She chewed her lip before answering. “The beginning and end of something.”

“You got it when we broke up,” he stated. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, a couple of days after. I was miserable and full of self-pity.” – she paused – “I have more…if you want to see them.”

He nodded and she flipped over onto her back. It was then that Will saw the thin, slightly jagged scar on her stomach; just beneath the bottom of her rib cage. The scar was about three inches long, and there were words tattooed in an old fashioned typewriter font along the edge of it. Will leaned closer so he could read it.

“‘Journalism will kill you, but it will keep you alive while you’re at it.’ That’s Horace Greeley, right?” He glanced up to see her biting her lip nervously.

“Yeah.” Quickly changing the subject, she pointed at a tiny semicolon on her left hip. “I got that one a few days after I came back; after you told me how you’d seen me at Northwestern and you agreed to give ‘ _News Night_ 2.0’ a chance. ”

“Something that could’ve been finished, but wasn’t,” Will clarified with a small smile.

“Right.”

“Are there any others?”

She shook her head. “That’s it…for now, anyway.”

“What else would you want to get?”

“I’m not sure. I usually don’t think about them that far in advance.” – she gestured to her stomach – “This was the only one I really took my time to decide on.”

This knowledge didn’t surprise Will much. He had always known her to be a little bit spontaneous and haphazard in her decision-making.

They didn’t talk much after that, instead choosing to engage in more intimate activities to rediscover each other and celebrate their reunion before rushing off to work

“I might get a new one now that we’re back together,” she casually mentioned later that day while they were prepping for a pre-tape.”

That was how Will found himself standing awkwardly in a corner of some swanky tattoo parlor in Brooklyn on Saturday night. (Mackenzie had always fondly teased him about being a “Nebraska Republican Square,” but maybe there was some truth in it, because he was definitely not comfortable in a place like this.) He held her hand – more for his own comfort than hers – and watched as the artist filled in the words “it’s not” and “but it can be” around the semicolon that was already on her hip; a symbol of their story that could’ve been over, but wasn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
